World War Zo II : Desolation
by Epic Breadstick
Summary: Zoey made it. But at what cost? What destruction had she left in her wake? Fighting for her way back into the world she desperately tried to escape, Zoey searches for the ones she abandoned and the part of her she so often repelled. Sequel to World War Zo
1. Chapter 1

**It's been less than a week since I finished the first part, sheesh I really kept it suspenseful, eh? /end sarcasm...but idgaf. Here it is. Review if you LOVE ME! Or not. That's cool, too. But it helps, you know. It helps the quality of my writing to know whether you like/dislike (not that I'd change anything) or find any mistakes. I like ideas, too. Idea's are good. Give me some. Or if you just want to tell me I suck. I welcome all reviews. **

**HERE IT IS: THE SEQUEL TO WORLD WAR Z *drumroll, please* **_hold the applause._

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* * *

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My fingers twirled the pencil absentmindedly. I couldn't seem to fill in the answers on the piece of paper before me. Finals were soon. I had to do this. I knew what they were, but when I tried to read the question, the words jumbled together in an unintelligible heap.

Something was nagging my thoughts. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something even bigger I should be worried about besides homework. Images and memories would fight their way to the surface, appearing in little things around the room that didn't strike me as odd. Suddenly the cabinets were hanging off the hinges, wooden planks replacing the drapes on the kitchen window, spilled coffee morphed into bloody handprints.

And I sat, wracking my brain for answers to this homework. It seemed so absolutely crucial, as if everything had to wait until this question was addressed.

I squinted down at the paper again, willing the jumbled letters to separate into something I could understand.

The feeling of dread washed over me. The letters faded from the paper and slowly reappeared. It felt as if I had hands around my throat, squeezing, but I didn't fight it. I re-read the question, and more materialized below it.

_Why did you lie?_

_You could have fought it._

_We could have escaped together._

_Didn't you mean what you said?_

_It's all your fault. _

_You had to choose._

_Do you care?_

_I hope you dream about what you did._

_I hope you scream about what you did. _

I raised a shaky hand to write, believing it could somehow get to him. I wanted him to understand. I didn't have a choice. There was nothing I could do. I only wanted to protect them both.

Instead of the pencil, there was a pistol in my hand. I looked at it quizzically, but I already knew why I was holding it. As if I were expecting it all along.

I looked up and around me. I was sitting in the kitchen of Ellis' mom's house. It was in perfect condition, I could feel the sun streaming through the window on my face.

"Zoey," A soft voice said from the doorway. I turned around to see Ellis' mother, smiling at me. "he wants to see you."

I smiled, despite myself. "He does? He isn't angry?" I stood from the table. How bad I wanted to see him.

She just continued to smile sweetly at me. She called for him over her shoulder, without taking her eyes off of mine.

I took a step forward anxiously, an expectant smile plastered on my face. "Ellis?"

There were footsteps. His mom took a step back, giving him the floor.

I froze. Ellis. Bit. Infected. Zombie. Enemy. No, he was immune! He had to be!

It was my fault this happened.

He hated me. The hate he held for me fought through the infection. Revenge. I could see the saliva dripping from his mouth at the thought. My breath escaped me.

"He's been waiting for this." His mother said from behind him.

It feels like I'm swallowing cement. "I know."

"You thought you were slick, huh. Well, no more games." Nick whispered in my ear.

And it's okay. I deserved this. I've been waiting for it. I let the pistol fall from my hand.

"I'm so sorry." I breathed.

Ellis lunged for my throat.

* * *

I thrashed in the sheets, my hands landing immediately on my pistols and aimed at something that wasn't there. It took longer than usual to calm my breathing and quiet my racing thoughts, for me to realize nothing was there, nobody was there. I massaged my temples in an attempt to ease the pounding in my skull. My hair was damp with sweat, glued to my forehead.

The clock told me it was 4 in the morning. Light rain falling against my barred windows. Just a dream, I told myself. Just another one of those dreams. It's been months and it still felt as if I ran into a brick wall head on.

I couldn't help but wish it were real.

* * *

At nine in the morning my alarm clock blared, and I lunged out of the bed defensively. An awful habit, why did I even have that fucking alarm clock? A pin hitting the floor could wake me up nowadays. I slammed my fist on the clock, shutting it off.

On the floor next to my bed was my backpack. I remembered the dream, perhaps stemming from the fact that I didn't do my homework. I groaned and kicked it across the room.

Ever since we were choppered out of Charleston, I hardly went shopping. If you could call digging through piles and racks of clothes that people had left behind or had come off of the dead themselves shopping. That left my wardrobe government-issued clothing for the most part, and a few things of my own.

And I didn't blame my aversion to shopping in general, I needed clothes. I blamed my aversion to people. It was hard for me to go out in public, to walk around this town. We were allowed to keep firearms, especially when we were first relocated, but it's been so long since an outbreak that nobody even bothers anymore. Except me. I keep my pistol in my belt, hidden beneath my shirts. I avoid large groups of people at all costs. Nobody could forget my meltdown not long after we arrived.

It was my first time walking about freely. I still crept down the sidewalk out of habit, unable to believe that this area was for the most part quarantined. There was something going on in the town square, somebody was giving a speech, standing at a podium. Everybody was gathered at the bottom of the steps. Not that many people. But enough.

Someone ushered me towards the crowd, telling me attendance was mandatory. I jumped when they touched me and ran from them, stopping in the very back, not listening to the speech, just trying not to vomit. More people showed up, closing me in. The man's voice at the podium rose, and people cheered and shouted. I tried to push my way out, but I was bumped left and right by people who were getting riled up by the speech.

"Move!" I'd shout. "Get the fuck out of my way!" I shoved people hard, feeling the sweat break out on my forehead. All these people. I was stuck, suffocating, drowning in the sea of survivors. My heart was rapid, my temples pounding. "Please, move!" I begged, nobody could hear me over their own cheers, over the echo of the words coming from the podium.

I spun around, and everybody was staring at me. I still heard their cheers and shouts, but their mouths weren't moving. Their eyes were locked on me. Their cloudy white, vacant eyes. Simultaneously their mouths spread in a blood-coated sneer. I was surrounded by them. I tore my pistol from my belt and aimed.

I heard a shout of terror. I was tackled to the ground just as I fired, and the round went straight upward.

I shuddered hard at the memory as I pulled on my shorts and a t-shirt. Needless to say I made a great first impression. I wasn't guilty of attempted murder on plea of insanity. I couldn't explain to the military therapists what happened, what I was feeling. They diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I laughed in the doctor's face. Didn't every single person here have that? I refused to believe I was the only one scarred. Until they told me that the people who lived here now were people who almost never had to face the infection firsthand. They were the rich, important people. Athletes, famous lawyers, children of business tycoons...people who were safe from the beginning, the first ones filtered out of the chaos. He wondered how I ended up here. I'd avoid the question.

They gave me pills, allowed me to keep my weapon. Scheduled me for target practice as a part of therapy. I still haven't attended one. I put the pills in my drawer and haven't touched them since. The doctor would call me once in a while, but I just let the phone ring.

I slid my pistol in the hem of my pants, pulled my shirt down over it, slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out the front door of the house. I lived with more people, but I never paid them any mind. Group housing. People forced to share small areas of space, to tolerate each other and call it home.

It sucked.

I walked down the sidewalk, eyes on my feet, as always. People were out, chopping firewood or cutting the fur from their sheep. All part of the 'tools and talent' mentality implemented by the government. The country was in shambles. We didn't need stock brokers or lawyers, we needed hard labor and skills. Skills that have been long lost, dissipating with every generation. Needless to say, there was very few 'talent', and not nearly as much 'tools'. Running water was scarce, heat was nonexistent. A chimney sweeper came during the winter so we could light our fireplaces. The sweaters itched from the genuine wool freshly cut from the sheep. Farms were few, especially being behind the Rocky mountains, where the military managed to build some line of defense.

Overseas trading was abolished. Our resources were restricted to what we had within our borders. This led to a lot of conflict, and a lot of dead. War production had become our top priority, the only thing humans were good for these days, especially if we wanted to come out of this thing on top.

And I was walking to class. A pointless class that I detested. There seemed to be so many more important things to put people's time into. Afterward I had 'work'. My past-life skills included writing and procrastination. My physical build had much improved since the outbreak, granting me some purpose in this society, no matter how small. They used the immune, physically able people to run through area's freshly-considered secure to round up bodies of infected, toss them in a heap and light them on fire.

No matter how much the job disgusted me, wore me out and drenched me with sweat even despite the cold mountain breeze, I loved it.

* * *

I let my head slide further down my arm, my eyes heavy. Those nightmares haven't been helping my sleep. I'd say I was sleeping better before I was rescued. Before I ran away. Before I abandoned them all.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it." I whispered to myself, ignoring the teacher at the front of the room and the students all around me. All different ages. It was a class teaching us everything they knew about the infection, a re-educating class to turn these spoiled brats into something useful. Mainly because none of these people know nothing about anything, and knowing as much as you could to survive seemed to overshadow mathematics or marketing these days. I felt as if I, myself, could be teaching my class. I didn't think there was a single part of the undead plague I hadn't experienced. Of course, nobody knew this. They all just thought I was insane. I never shared with them if I could help it.

I tried to massage my temples, a futile calming ritual I often used to ease the pessimistic and self-loathing thoughts that all too often infiltrated my mind. "You didn't run away, you didn't abandon them. You couldn't help it. You tried, Zoey." I whispered quietly to myself. I could feel the people in the seats around me staring. I assumed they heard me talking to myself.

"Zoey?" I heard the pot-bellied, grey haired teacher repeat.

I snapped back to attention, looking around at the people staring at me, waiting for me to answer, and instead saw me mumbling to myself. "Yes?"

He smiled awkwardly. "Are you paying attention?"

I came very close to scoffing. I didn't need to pay attention. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel superior to these people around me. Like they had no idea what it was really like to live with the infection. "Could you repeat the question?"

"How do you know if a certain person is immune to the infection?"

I cocked my head to the side. What a silly question, these people really did have no idea. "Ok, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say…_maybe _you know someone is immune when they get bit and _don't _turn into a zombie?"

A couple people around me scoffed, and my heavy dose of sarcasm didn't go unnoticed to the teacher. He was about to continue on with his re-education seminar when a student raised her hand. "Yes, Amanda?"

"I have a question for Zoey." She said, and turned towards me. I raised my eyebrows and leaned forward, mock interest in what she had to say. "If somebody got bit, why would you wait for them to turn into a zombie? You could get yourself, or the people around you killed. I think that's what Mr. Jules meant when he asked how you would know, from a physical standpoint." She said with a sneer, folding her hands triumphantly.

I dropped my pen onto my desk, chuckling to myself. "You know, it all sounds so great on paper, in theory, doesn't it? 'Oh, don't worry, we'll kill them before they turn'. Even though there's a chance they could be immune? A friend, a loved one, even a stranger-"

"I don't think times like these are the best times to take chances." She interrupted. A few people nodded.

"And what the hell do you know about 'these times' besides what your daddy tells you?" I snapped back.

She held up the manual we each had for this class, tapping it with her pen.

I shook my head, not knowing how to get it through to her. "Have you ever had to kill somebody who was bit?"

She shook her head.

"Has anybody you known personally died and came back to life right before your eyes?"

Her eyes shifted to those around her. She shook her head.

"Have you ever had to kill a zombie-version of a loved one?"

She hesitated, then shook her head.

"Have you ever even had to _kill _a zombie at all?" I nearly shouted.

"Now, now, let's all just-" The teacher said, trying to ease me down.

"That's what I thought." I said, a cold stare directed at Amanda. She bit her lip, smiling sheepishly at those around her. I stood from my seat, gathering together my things. "I don't even know why I'm in this class." I muttered. I turned to face the entire class on my way to the door. "You guy's really don't know a thing about what it's like out there."

* * *

I ended up sitting on a park bench outside the 'school', which was really just an old recreational center, the only thing that had remained standing when the park district burnt down in the earlier days. I watched people wandering about, and I assumed they were given their break for the day. One woman was eyeing the swing set, but not daring to approach it. This was a guess, but I assumed, judging from the look on her face, that she used to have kids.

Kids. I haven't seen one since the outbreak. I didn't really want to know what happened to most of them, how they made it or failed to make it. All I knew was, there were no kids here. And it took for almost the entire child population to disappear for me to realize I actually liked kids after all.

Still fuming about class, I tore the manual from my backpack, eyeing the cover. It was put together last-minute, a collection of data recorded by scientists and military officials. Made so recently and it was already outdated, missing crucial information on the special infected and their mindset.

They were missing so much. What were they possibly hiding from people? What couldn't they admit?

Did they honestly believe that just because it's been a few years, it can only get better and certain facts can remain hidden? One little slip-up, one secret and this entire 'safe-zone' could be compromised. I wondered idly when they even had the chance to print this. They must have known it would only be used like a schoolbook, not a survival guide for those who really needed it. If only they had warned the people when the outbreaks really started, no matter how isolated, and not months later. I couldn't imagine how many people would have survived if they really knew what to expect.

In a bout of anger I tore the book to shreds, throwing the paper and letting it scatter in the breeze. There was no way I would be going to another one of those stupid classes, for the teacher to try to tell _me _I was wrong about something I had lived through. There was no way.

I heard footsteps behind me, gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

"Zoey," Dr. Martin said. I didn't turn to look at him, or stand from the park bench. My eyes followed the scraps of paper that were slowly making their way to the street.

Dr. Martin liked to consider himself my therapist, but I just considered him a therapist. A therapist who wouldn't leave me alone. Probably because I was one of the few people in this place who actually had plausible reasons to need a therapist, giving him something to do, but not want one. Nothing had pissed me off more than laying down on a couch and listening to him trying to pry information from my lips. It was comical, really.

"They told me what happened in class." He said when I made no response.

"That didn't take long. Guess I'm the only point of interest around here, huh?" I said with a sneer.

Dr. Martin walked around the bench and took a seat beside me, eyeing the jacket, the only remaining piece of the manual, wearily. "What is it about that class that makes you so mad?"

I shook my head.

"You grew upset discussing the reanimation of loved ones." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad, clicking his pen. He was a military doctor, dressed in the signature green pixels.

I shot him a cold look. He smiled.

"Ah, so I'm right?"

"About what?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Somebody you love was bitten, and you had to be the one to kill them. No?" He said. He sounded disgustingly proud of himself at having made a discovery.

With his words came the images. I had been so good at keeping them out, all this time. They ceased to haunt me, and he was resurrecting them.

Amy. My little teenage cousin. She was staying with our family, her parents were infected. We took her in, in time. I'll never forget when we went to pick her up. She ran to the car, crying, sobbing, her words unintelligible. My dad's face turned white. He told us to lock the car door, and he went into the house. I heard two shots from within. None of us said anything.

Amy didn't tell us they scratched her. That's why it took so long for the infection to seep into her bloodstream, it was hardly a surface wound.

I had felt her pulse, listened to her take her last breath in my arms, sobbed as her limbs fell limp beside her.

I stood over her, waiting, the pistol aimed as steadily as I could manage. I wasn't aware how long it took, time had ceased to exist, but I didn't move an inch.

Finally, her eyes re-opened. I'll never forget them. Cloudy. White. Hungry.

The veins were black beneath her skin, creeping up the sides of her face. She sat up, turning her head slowly in my direction. Her mouth opened, and just as the tell-tale howl escaped her, I had sent a bullet between her eyes.

"Zoey? Zoey!" Dr. Martin said, shaking my shoulder.

I came back to the present with a jolt, realized I must have spaced out like a complete mad woman. All I knew at that moment was that I wasn't going to give Dr. Martin the satisfaction of breaking me.

"So, is that what happened?" He repeated, referring to his previous statement.

I stared hard at him. "No." I said.

He looked taken aback. "Then what was the-"

"Dr. Martin," I said, standing from the bench and grabbing my backpack. His eyes fell on the exposed pistol in my belt, and I hurried to pull my shirt over it. "the only thing I have to say to you is, I have seen it all. And if that doesn't answer every single god damn question you're harboring, then I don't know what else you could possibly want."

"Zoey-" He stood also, attempting to stop me.

"There's nothing you can do. Just leave me alone."

* * *

Back in my room, I dropped my bag to the floor and kicked off my shoes, unlatching my pistol from my belt and putting it in its usual place on my night table. It was almost time for me to go to work. I debated with myself whether to ditch, or make an appearance. I wasn't aware of the consequences, and at that moment I couldn't find it in me to care about what may happen to me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at myself in the mirror.

It was at times like these the thoughts were hardest to keep out. They were mainly about him, Ellis. My hands balled around the quilt beneath me when I thought of what could have happened to him, all because of me. I hoped and I begged with an unforeseen force that he made it, that he was alive.

When I thought about the possibility, the probability, that he didn't make it…

I began gasping for air, my hand clutching my chest. I shut my eyes tight, thinking of him alive, him well, him happy, desperately trying to compose my breathing. These panic attacks were happening too often, nearly everyday.

When my erratic breathing at returned to normal, I began wondering how long it's been. I was positive it had been at least a few months, probably more.

I thought of Nick, Rochelle, Louis and Coach. Rochelle, if anybody deserved a break it was her. Always wanting to do the right thing, take care of those around her. If anybody deserved a peaceful life it was Coach. He knew what was too much for him, yet he always pushed the limits. Looking out for everybody, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. Louis. Thinking of him still made me angry. But even at that moment, I couldn't help but worry about what happened to him. And Nick. I saw right through his façade. He cared. Despite anything he said, he cared. I missed him. I missed them all.

I thought of how warm Ellis was. How he had always made the best out of a bad situation. How he always made me laugh when the last thing I could do was smile. How soft his lips were, or how safe I had felt huddled beside him.

I thought of how I had taken him for granted. I didn't appreciate what was handed to me until it was too late. I never even had a chance to tell him how I really felt.

I treated him like shit and he loved me. He loved me and I abandoned him.

I met my own eyes in the mirror. I hated those eyes. I couldn't stand looking at them anymore. I couldn't stand looking at them and remembering everything that had happened because of them. Those eyes didn't deserve to see, the beholder didn't deserve to live.

I lurched from the bed, and in one fluid movement, my fist shot right into the mirror. It was thick glass. It cracked and my knuckles throbbed. I didn't stop there. I brought up my left fist. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Until the mirror was in pieces and my knuckles were dripping onto the floor.

I looked down at them, at the bits of glass embedded within and the blood trickling onto the wooden floor. It didn't seem to compensate for all of the blood I've spilt.

I crawled into my bed, staining the sheets with red, and curled into a ball.

I hated this place. I hated every little thing about it. I knew almost nothing about what went on here, I only knew I couldn't stand being here. I couldn't stand being safe and not knowing what happened to the ones who mattered to me.

I'd rather be out in the middle of nowhere, having to fend for myself as I was used to, than stay here. I would never fit into any semblance of society ever again. If there would ever be a semblance of society again. After all, they barely had a hold on the undead plague. It was only a matter of time before it bites them in the ass again.

Outside these reinforced walls were hordes of undead waiting to rip each and every one of their throats out. This place made me sick. This fake civilization. Fake happiness. Fake normalcy.

I had to get out.

* * *

**Yeah.**


	2. Chapter 2

**'Ello.**

**As KiranS had pointed out, two years, to the readers [not including myself] had seemed a little long. That's fixed.  
**

**

* * *

**_Ellis opened his eyes. The ignorance of first awakening lasted hardly a second before the pain settled in. Instinctively, he tried to raise his head. Pain shot down his spine, and he was forced to drop back against the gravel. He tasted blood when he ran his tongue over his teeth._

_He was pinned beneath something, trapped. Every rapid breath he took disturbed bits of gravel, dust, and ash. He could move his head, turn it the other way, lift it only slightly due to the pain. He waited for the life to slowly creep back into his limbs. He twitched his legs as much as the confines would allow. With the increase in blood flow came the pain. He wished he'd let himself stay numb._

_When he was finally able to think, finally able to form coherent thoughts, he assessed his situation. As far as he could tell, he was pinned beneath a chunk of wall or roof. He fought to remember through the daze he was in. All he knew was that he had to move before his circulation was cut off completely. _

_He flexed the fingers of his left hand, formed a weak fist. His right arm was unresponsive, taking the brunt of the weight. He inched his left arm higher and higher, reaching in front of him and searching for leverage to pull himself out. He groaned, biting back tears of pain. _

_His fingers brushed against something cold. He wrapped his hand around the exposed pipe jutting from cracked cement. He heaved a deep breath, sending the ash around him into a spiral, anticipating the pain. _

"_Agh!" He groaned, putting all the strength his impaired body could muster into his left arm. He dug the toe of his boots into the ground, pushing himself forward. The pain rocketed through him. _

_The pressure was relieved from his right shoulder, from his elbow up he was freed. He stopped, his head falling back against the ground, and closed his eyes. He couldn't breathe. He could hardly move. He couldn't remember what happened. _

_Zoey._

_Zoey. Ellis' eyes snapped open. Zoey. He could feel the blood streaming life back into his exposed right arm. Zoey. He fought against the pain and weakness and forced his other arm out, gritting his teeth. Zoey. He gripped the pipe with both hands, wrapping his more powerful fist over his right, whose fingers he couldn't get to curl over the steel. Zoey. His muscles joined together in protest, every nerve was a live wire. Zoey. He dragged the rest of his lower body, up to his knees, out from the rubble. He felt like a disgusting zombie, pulling themselves along the floor. Zoey. The thought angered him. He pressed his palms against the ground and pushed. His arms were shaking violently, and his chest slammed down against the gravel, unable to hold himself up, rocks piercing through his shirt. _

"_Zoey," He nearly sobbed. Thinking of her did inexplicable things to his mind. It gave him a reason, gave him the strength he needed to extract himself from the stone slab laying over him. He pressed his palms down once more, ignoring the burning wounds on the sensitive flesh there, and pushed. This time his arms held long enough for him to heave his legs from the rubble. _

_Before he could collapse once more, he brought his knees up beneath him, placing his head between them, trying to keep some hold on the tilting earth. After the nausea and dizziness rocked through him and subsided, many times over, Ellis could lift his head once more, look around without seeing double. He spat blood, which at first worried him. Internal bleeding? But his tongue explored his mouth. There was a deep gash on the inside of his cheek. He didn't have it in him to wonder._

_He looked behind him, at what he was trapped under. It was the ceiling of the sleeping hall. It caved in. He was befuddled. Why had it collapsed? The ground burned beneath Ellis' hands. _

_They were bombed. Zoey made it to safety. Ellis, so serenely comforted at the thought of Zoey being okay, almost couldn't find a reason to move from his spot. He almost fell back into unconsciousness when a sudden reality dawned on him, so powerfully that he found himself on his feet, stumbling into a collapsed wall for balance._

_Nick._

_

* * *

_I felt somebody's hand on my back, shaking me. My body reacted before my mind. I swiveled onto my back, my left arm seizing the wrist of the intruders arm while the other one wrapped around their neck.

They sputtered, choking on their words. "It's - me - _stop!_" They exclaimed, and upon realizing who it was, I released them.

They stumbled back, hands massaging their throat. "What the fuck is your problem?"

I pushed myself into a sitting position. "You should have learned by now not to do that, Keith." I said to my fellow housemate, placing my hand on my forehead. My temples were pounding.

"Guess I'll never get used to living with a psychopath…" he muttered. His gaze fell on my bed. "Hey, what the hell-?" He said, eyeing the bloodstained sheets. I was quick to pull the quilt over it.

"Nothing."

"What happened to your hands?" He asked, grabbing my wrist and eyeing my mangled knuckles. Without realizing it, my eyes fell on the mirror, that was now in pieces, scattered on the floor. Keith followed my gaze, and his mouth fell open.

I pulled my hand away, leaping from the bed. "Get out."

"What did you _do_?" He wondered, in awe, staring down at his multiple reflections on the floor.

Somebody walked passed my open doorway, but they quickly backtracked. Another housemate, Logan, stepped into the room, taking in the bloody glass and sheets before him. "Keith, I know Zoey is a loose screw, but you could have woken her up a little less violently…"

"Aye, don't be fooled. If anybody was nearly killed, it was me." Keith corrected him.

I grabbed them both by the sleeves, shoving him out of the doorway. "Get out!" I repeated.

Before I could slam the door shut, Keith stuck his hand in, preventing me from doing so. "No, no, no. I came with purpose!" He said, pushing the door the rest of the way open.

"What?" I demanded angrily.

"The 'boss'," He air quoted the word with a sneer. "wants to see you about bailing yesterday."

I rolled my eyes. "Or what?"

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Somebody's feeling a little rebellious, no?"

"More like pissed off." I said, shoving him in the chest back into the hallway. "Now, get out."

* * *

I felt as heavy as a boomer in my hideous orange jumpsuit and clunky boots. This was the part of the job I hated. I also hated the shit weapon they issued. It looked and operated like a standard pistol, except when fired it shot several small pellets. They weren't intended to kill the target, only stun them or slow them down long enough to be properly eliminated via melee. Apparently, they didn't trust us with real guns. Maybe they thought one of us was going to go off the deep end and start killing everybody. Or maybe they were just waiting for that person to be me.

I wasn't recruited for this job. I specifically signed up for it. My initial assignment was culinary. I purposely started a small fire, successfully proving I was wrong for that job. Many would agree that hauling dead bodies was a downgrade, but it was the only connection I had to the outside world. A connection most would be more than glad to break off, but it was one that, despite running from it all these years, I was desperately holding on to.

And I couldn't figure out why.

The only conclusion my delusive mind could draw was that I fervently believed Ellis was still a part of that world. And if he was still fighting for his life against the monsters who nearly took ours, then I wanted to, as well. I knew the risks when I accepted this work placement. They were risks I welcomed with open arms.

But as I walked to the bus that transported us into these dangerous territories, I knew I wasn't going to be playing house for much longer. I had already drawn up an escape plan of sorts. It wasn't very intricate at the moment, it definitely required much more thought, but I had the basic blueprints mapped out in my head.

Logan, a housemate that, for the most part, I got along with, was a former Sat-Com Marine. That made him a very vital 'talent' to this society. He'd share stories with me, never going into detail, though, but over time I was able to conclude that he knew a lot more about this place than most.

Keith wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the tanning bed. He would fix things for the people here. He was exactly the type of person I normally wouldn't be able to stand, but it was undeniable how much he reminded me of Ellis. I couldn't figure out why, but I was selfish enough to keep him around just because of that.

They were the only two people here I could refer to as some sort of acquaintances. Another undeniable fact. I needed someone to watch my back. There were some things I couldn't do on my own, and getting out of here was one of them. As much as I resented putting my trust in people I barely knew, or asserting my dependence on anybody other than myself, I knew it was necessary. But, how could they help me? I knew almost nothing. I had no knowledge of anything beneficial.

That's what it boiled down to. What did I need to know in order to get out of here?

It was nearly impossible to leave this place. Once you were here, you were another button on the war production machine. Every person counted. They needed all the labor they could get to rebuild our country, to take down the common enemy that was still very much at large, if not growing in numbers, and slowly eating their way towards our small border.

So, needless to say, I wasn't going to get out of here as simply as walking away. I'd need a heavy dose of Intel on a variety of cases.

Before, I was searching for the remains of a team I thought I had killed. Now, I was breaking out to look for somebody I knew I couldn't live without.

* * *

_Ellis could hardly see through the pillars of smoke surrounding him. Bodies and limbs were scattered among the rubble of what used to be the camp. The one place that promised them safety from their enemies was the place that, in the end, destroyed them as if they were just that. _

_Ellis was limping, having to slightly drag his right foot, as it was still numb, through the remains of the camp. "Nick!" He shouted weakly, eyes searching high and low for his friend. "Nick!" He repeated, louder this time._

_Before he could form the name on his lips a third time, he heard something that made him pause. Footsteps, a whole lot of them. Closing in where the entrance of the camp used to stand. Ellis would have assumed them being infected if he didn't hear their booming voices shouting commands to each other to clear the area._

_Ellis knew they weren't searching for survivors, but being the hopeful optimist he was, he limped in the direction of their voices. "Hel-" Was all he managed to get out before something struck him in the back of the head, bringing him to the ground like a ton of bricks. _

_Ellis' head spun with the impact. Just as he hit the floor, the soldiers came around the corner of the building. Before Ellis could even find it in him to move, he saw him. He saw Nick._

_Nick was crouched behind a toppled over slab of cement, directly adjacent to where Ellis was laying. He brought a finger slowly to his mouth. He was holding a gun in his other hand. _

"_Hey, over here. He's twitchin'." A soldier said, and the footsteps followed him to where Ellis lay. _

"_Get rid of 'em."_

"…_He's not infected."_

"_You heard what the sergeant said. Anything that's moving, shoot."_

_Ellis' heart doubled in pace. He looked over at Nick. He wanted to jump up and run, cower beside the man he never seemed to like but would give his life for. He searched Nick's face for an answer as to what to do. Nick knew what Ellis was thinking. He shook his head slowly, mouthing the words, "Trust me." Ellis knew he could._

"_I'm sorry, man." A soldier said. Ellis could feel the barrel of the man's gun hovering above his head._

_Ellis couldn't take it. He knew he was about to die. "Nick!" He sobbed, reaching in his direction. _

_Raw fury flashed across Nick's face. Ellis couldn't register that in time, though._

_Something exploded near Ellis' ear. Pain like he'd never known shot through his entire being. If he wasn't dead yet, he hoped it came soon._

_

* * *

_I looked down at the paper in my hands, and back up at the building we were standing in front of. "Yeah, in here." I said to the group behind me. I wasn't the assigned leader, being unqualified by the book, but they let me serve as one, knowing it would mean less trouble.

These were one of the buildings we were assigned to clear out today. By the size of it, we all knew it would be an all-day job. I was slightly relieved, it would mean less walking around.

"Okay," I said, shoving the paper into my pocket. "I got a feeling there's going to be a lot of bodies in here. So, you four," I turned around, picking out the three burliest men in the group. "start pushing these cars out of the way. I don't care how, flip 'em over, push them down the block, whatever. Just make space for the pile. The rest of you help me get these doors off the hinges so we can haul them out without a problem. When we get higher up, we'll just toss them out the windows." I eyed them wearily. "_Try _to throw them in the general area." I said, gesturing to the street we were standing in.

"Yes, ma'am." One of the guys said, giving a salute.

"Alright, let's get this over with." I said, clapping my hands. Everybody scattered to their assigned job. The cars were, for the most part, burnt to a crisp and easy to heave out of the way. Most of the buildings around us were burnt down, it was obvious. This bank we were clearing out was one of the few places still standing.

I used a hammer to bust the hinges off, in quite a nontraditional way, but we were able to lift the glass doors off easily and lean them up against the side of the building. One of the young woman in the group kept eyeing around her anxiously, laying a hand on her weapon every time she heard a small noise. Her paranoia was severely impairing her work effort.

After we got the last door down, I ordered everybody into the building while I confronted her one-on-one out front. "What's goin' on?"

"What? Nothing." She stammered defensively, taking a step back.

I wiped my forehead with my glove-clad hand. "There's no zombies here."

Her face fell, she knew I could read her mind. "But how do you _know_?"

"I don't. But the faster you work, the quicker we can get out of here before any of them show up." I lied, effectively scaring her into doing her job. She rushed into the building.

I smirked triumphantly.

* * *

When the work day was over, the sun was setting and my limbs were screaming bloody murder. I nearly collapsed through the front door. I didn't bother making it to my small bedroom, just fell onto the couch with my uniform still on.

Ellis' face flashed across my closed lids. I couldn't tell whether I was aching from the long day's work, or aching for him. Even when I wasn't thinking about him, I was. He was always in the back of my mind.

The front door slammed shut. My head snapped up, my eyes foggy. I must have dozed off. I pushed myself into a sitting position.

"Sorry, Zo." Keith said, kicking off his shoes. He flipped on the living room light. It was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

I squinted. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" he wondered, sitting next to me.

I tore off my gloves and unlaced my boots. "Just don't."

Ellis would call me that.

Of course, I didn't admit that.

"You know, I shoulda learned to stop askin' you stuff like that by now, but I guess everything just goes in one ear and out the other." He chuckled.

"I guess so."

"Why is that?" He wondered aloud. "Why can't anybody ever ask you nothin'?

"Didn't you just say you should have learned-"

"I said I should have, not that I did." He said, smirking.

"Well…" I said, unzipping my jumper.

"C'mon," He said, nudging my shoulder. "level with me for once. Stop treatin' me like I don't know shit."

I shot him a look. "I don't do it intentionally."

"Of course you do!" he said. "You talk down to everybody like they're little kids. You don't share your stories, and neither do they, so what do you know?"

Before I could fire back a response, Logan walked through the front door, dressed in his usual military apparel. Though he worked directly for the military, he wasn't a high enough rank to get a room in their housing arrangements, so he was stuck with the public housing system.

I jumped from the couch. "Logan!" I said, taking him by surprise.

He jumped back a bit. "Woah, you've never been this excited to see me. Have you finally realized how good looking I am?"

"No, shut up." I said, brushing him off. "I need to talk to you."

I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down to where Keith was sitting, but he had disappeared into the kitchen to get something to drink.

"What about?" He wondered, undoing the buttons on his vest.

I stammered, thinking of how to say it. I couldn't waste any time. "I need," I looked around, paranoid, and let my voice drop to a whisper. "I need a way out of here."

"Out of where? 'Cause, _I'm_ not even good enough to get a decent place to live…" He chuckled.

"No, out of _here_." I said. "Out of this whole place. Back out there." I pointed over the direction of the Rocky Mountains, our line of defense.

His eyes widened. "Why the hell do you want to go back out there?"

"Don't ask me why. Just tell me how I can."

"Woah, woah, woah." He said, standing up. "You're asking me to help you bust out of here, and you won't even tell me why?"

I stood, too. "Why do you care?"

"What kind of question is that?" He demanded, raising his voice. "Friends care what other friends do. And when one friend wants to go out and get eaten alive, another friend usually wonders why."

I couldn't very well argue that we weren't friends, because we were. I remembered what Keith said, about how I treated people. Looking down on them, talking down at them like they didn't know anything, or they were too naïve to understand. He was right.

I sighed. "It's…difficult."

"Do you _want_ to get yourself killed? Are you suicidal?"

"No! Nothing like that!"

"What reason could you possibly have that isn't completely insane?"

"I don't…I can't say…" I said quietly, staring down at my feet.

"The hell you can't!" He shouted. "I'm not helping you do anything until I get a justifiable reason. Even then, only if _I_ believe it's justifiable."

"That's not fair!" I argued.

"Zoey, we're talking life and death here-"

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then why? Why do you want to do this? We're safe here."

"I know…but, I have to find somebody."

"And you're one hundred percent sure that somebody is even alive?"

"No, but-"

"But what?"

"If he's not, then I don't want to be either!" I nearly shouted, tears welling behind my lids. I felt weak, pitiful just admitting that.

Logan's expression fell. "Where and when did you last see him?" He wondered, quietly this time.

I wracked my brain for how long it's been. "Refugee camp in South Carolina. I don't know how long, a few months? We went all the way from Louisiana. And I know, I _know_, if he made it out of there alive, he'd come looking for me. I know it." It was true. Ellis would do anything in his power to find out where I was, and come find me.

"Even after two years?" Logan asked pessimistically.

"I can't imagine going cross-country through zombie infested territory would be a one week deal." I fired back.

"Fair enough." He said. "Where's this kid from?"

"Savannah, Georgia."

"And you think I could help you get out of here?"

"I _know _you can, Logan. Please." I fell to my knees before him, begging. "Please. I can't do this anymore. I can't live with myself."

He sat, mulling this over. "I don't know, Zoey…It's not that easy."

"Bullshit!" I said, jumping to my feet. "Please! I have to find him, I have to find Ellis!" I shouted.

I jumped at the sound of glass breaking against the wooden floor. I turned. Keith was leaning against the wall, his hand still outstretched, the cup he was holding laying in pieces on the ground. His mouth was agape, eyes wide.

"Did you say Ellis?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Meow.**

**

* * *

**

"Did you say Ellis?" Keith repeated, taking a step closer. I turned to face him, my confusion evident. He didn't wait for me to answer. He grabbed me by the shoulders, giving me one hard shake. "Ellis, Ellis McKinney?"

"Y-yeah!" I stuttered out as she shook me for an answer.

"You know him? How? Is he alive?"

"How do you-"

"Answer me!" Keith shouted in my face, digging his nails into my biceps. I cowered beneath him, truly frightened of the look in his eyes.

Yet, even before the side of Keith I had never experienced, I still retained some of my stubbornness. "Let go of me first!" I spat back.

Keith took a step back, hands raised. Even in the dim light I could see them shaking. "Zo, please." He said, his voice breaking. "What happened to Ellis?"

"That's what I need to find out!" I shouted, frustrated.

"How do you know him? When did you guys meet? When did you last see him? How was he doing-" Keith driveled on, his face desperate.

I moved towards him, and placed my hands on his shoulders in an attempt to ease him. I swore I could hear his heart pounding behind his rib cage. "Keith," I said quietly. "slow down, okay?" I had questions for him, too, and I needed him calm enough to answer them. "Take a deep breath."

Keith nodded fervently, inhaling and exhaling loudly. He repeated this a few times before looking at me. "Ok, ok. I'm good. It's just…it's just so much to take in."

"Sit down," I said, leading him towards the couch. Logan, who was watching this with humor in his eyes, slowly rose and moved across the room, leaning against the wall, eagerly awaiting what was to unfold. Keith took his spot, and I sat beside him. "ok, let's start over. How do you know Ellis?"

"He was," His breath hitched, and he tried to talk through the cracking in his voice, the trembling of his lower lip. "he was my best friend, man! My best friend in the whole fucking world!" Keith, unable to hold himself together any longer, dropped his face in his hands and broke into sobs. "Last time I saw him, he was goin' to his momma's and I was headin' over to my house 'cause the shit was gettin' bad...haven't seen him since." He mumbled into his hands.

I sat silently, watching him with my eyes wide. This couldn't be true. We had to be thinking of two different Ellis'. With the same last name. And same hometown. I shook my head, unable to register this. Of all the god damn people in the country, I get housed with the one person who shared a common interest? I couldn't even begin to fathom the odds.

"Zoey, please," He begged, lurching forward and grabbing my hands in both of his. "please, tell me he's okay."

"I…I don't know, that's why I need to get out of here. I just felt that if I had the right people on my side-" I glanced over at Logan, who smirked. "then I could find him."

"S-so you don't know what happened to him?" Keith asked, his face falling.

I gulped, picturing that last moment I saw him. Being raised in the sky, promised safety, while the one person I'd rather be promised to was down there, fighting for his very existence. Without me. And if something had happened to him, it was my fault. No matter where or when, or if, it would always be my fault. He could be here, safe and warm, if not for me. I had no problem walking back into that world without a promise, with nothing but a small thread of hope. That's all I needed. If I couldn't find Ellis, have him safe in my arms, then I would die trying. I had nothing to lose.

"I…have an inkling as to what might have happened…" I said quietly. "Huh?" Keith said, his ears perking. I just shook my head, not wanting to share. "Zoey," He continued. "when did you last see him? How did you even meet?"

I addressed the latter first. "I don't even remember when I met him. I was hurt, and he saved me. We stuck together for a long time after that." Keith nodded, and even smiled slightly at his friends chivalry, which never died even when everybody else in the world was. It hurt me to think about the last time I saw him, let alone talk about it. "I last saw him in Charleston, South Carolina. A few months ago."

"What happened?" He pressed.

I blinked rapidly to prevent the imminent tears, the ones that always sprung up when I thought about it. "I got out, he didn't." Before Keith could cry or curse at the world, I rushed on. "I saw him escape in a car." The last part was a lie. A lie that I spat out before I could think it through, I just didn't want to crush Keith with the truth that I didn't know what happened to Ellis. And the chances of him being alive…

Keith sat silently, digesting this new information, still trying to get over the fact that the two of us knew Ellis. I left him alone, letting him mull this over. A few minutes later and he raised his head from his hands, looking at me with a look so penetrating my eyes felt glued to his. "I'm going with you, Zoey."

* * *

_Ellis' ears were ringing, the world was tilting. He felt as if he were pinned to the ground by invisible shackles, his limbs felt so heavy._

_There was a shout, an explosion, and a thump near Ellis. He wanted to investigate, but at that moment he didn't even have the willpower to lift his head from the ash. _

_He could feel himself leaving his own body. He thought of Zoey. He wanted to die thinking about her. _

_He was falling off of the Earth now, a light so bright coming down on him he squinted even though his eyes were closed. He found it in him to lift his arm, reach towards the light. "God?" He whispered through his cracked lips._

"_No, you fucking dumbass. Get _up!_" The familiar voice demanded._

_Ellis would have chuckled if he could. He'd heard somewhere that God could manifest Himself in the people you cared about. _

_Something slid beneath him, trying to heave him up. The angels were supposed to be gentle, weren't they? _

"_You ain't as nice as I first thought, God." Ellis mumbled, slowly coming into himself once more._

_A sharp pain radiated on the side of his face, knocking his head to the side. Ellis' eyes snapped open. Nick was holding him up by the collar, his hand still outstretched, his fingers having left marks on Ellis' cheek. The sun, despite the obscene amounts of ash streaming into the sky, bore down on them._

"_You piece of shit hick, get up! We don't got much time before they show up again!"_

_Ellis couldn't fight back when Nick pulled him to his feet, thrusting a large gun into his hands. Suddenly, Ellis was at attention, standing on his own two legs, admiring the beauty that lay in his arms, a 5.56mm Caliber M16A4. At that moment he felt such love as a father did when holding his newborn child for the first time._

"_Let's go!" Nick hollered, and Ellis looked up to see him already a distance away, beckoning him over. Ellis moved towards him, and stumbled. He quickly regained his balance, despite the pain he was in, and instinctively looked down to see what he had tripped on._

_Three guards lay on the floor at Ellis' feet. Ellis didn't know what to think. Two were killed by a clear shot to the side of the head. The third, the one Ellis stumbled over, wasn't so lucky. There was a bullet hole in the side of his neck, blood coating his flesh and the ground around him. He gargled, choking on his own bodily fluid, and Ellis could see he was fighting for words. _

_Ellis looked down at him, torn between leaving him to die or ending his suffering now. This man had wanted to kill Ellis, he held a gun to his head. If it weren't for Nick, as Ellis was sure, he'd be dead. Ellis had never killed a real man. But in that moment, metaphorically torn to pieces, ripped apart by the apocalypse and his own personal apocalypse -the loss of Zoey- Ellis couldn't find it in him to care. _

"_K-ki-kill m-" Was all the suffocating man on the floor could get out. His eyes were red, protruding with the lack of oxygen to his brain. A slow way to die._

_Nick appeared beside Ellis. "Fucking sack of shit." He spat. Whether it was to him or the dying guard, Ellis couldn't tell._

_Nick raised his new gun, hesitating only a moment before blowing the man's head off._

_

* * *

_

I couldn't tell Keith no. I had no right to. I actually found myself wanting him to come with. The only thing more terrifying than never seeing Ellis again, was being alone through it all.

Keith stared at me, waiting for a reaction.

"O-okay." I finally said, nodding. "Alright!" I said, a little more enthusiastically. It was almost humorous, getting excited for what we were going to have to do.

A smile broke on Keith's face. We shared a look, before turning ours heads towards Logan, who was still leaning up against the wall, chewing on his nails. He noticed us, and slowly lowered his hands.

I raised my eyebrows at him, gesturing for him to say something. I didn't know what to expect, for him to deny any part in this, or to cave and help us get out. I hoped for the latter.

He stood up straight, taking a step closer to us. He crossed his arms formally behind his back, and cleared his throat. "So," he began, meeting both of our eyes. "let's figure out how _we _are going to go about this."

* * *

_Before Ellis could tear his gaze away from the gaping hole that used to be this mans face or the brain matter that now painted the ground around him, Nick wrapped a secure grip around Ellis' bicep, jerking him from the scene. Nick wanted to move faster, he wanted to sprint, but Ellis' limping wouldn't allow. Still, they pushed their feet harder against the gravel, stepping over bodies of both infected and non, rushing for the cover of the forest just outside before more showed up to finish what the previous guards started._

_Zombie's were the last thing on Nick's mind. Now they were running from their own kind. _

_"Nick," Ellis gasped, stumbling beside Nick, who still had his hand wrapped around Ellis' arm. Nick ignored him, eyes searching through the thick smoke and ash for an exit that would keep them unnoticed. "Nick!" Ellis repeated, digging his feet into the ground, pulling Nick backwards._

_"What?" _

_"Why are we runnin'?" Ellis asked, gasping for air. _

_Nick shook his head, taken aback. "Did you not see what almost happened to you back there?"_

_"No," Ellis said, not wanting to believe. "no, I think they just thought I was a zombie, no way they'd just kill all them regular people like that! Maybe if we wait they'll take us outta here..." _

_"You're delusional, kid." _

_"I'm serious! You killed all those guys for nothin', they could take us to Zoey!" _

_"Ellis, now is not the fucking time! I can't explain now. You have to trust me, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Nick begged, the first time Ellis really saw desperation on Nick's usually indifferent face. He tried to take hold of Ellis, force him into compliance, but Ellis shoved him off._

_"I ain't goin' nowhere, Nick." He said, his mind so set on the fact that their own kind would never implement a 'shoot to kill' mindset on people who were obviously not infected. _

_Ellis saw unmistakable pain in Nick's eyes. He half expected, even hoped, that Nick, who he considered to be his best friend, would stay with him. He knew Nick never allowed himself to get close to people, but Ellis witnessed it happen firsthand with Rochelle, Coach, Zoey, and Ellis himself. Ellis could see the 'every man for himself' mentality that Nick lived according to fading into nonexistence. That he had a heart buried beneath all of the hate he harbored for the world._

_Ellis was wrong._

_"I'm sorry, kid." Nick finally said. _

_There were the sounds of boot-clad feet rushing into the camp. Nick turned from the injured young man and disappeared into the billowing smoke._

_

* * *

_

The three of us sat around the rickety excuse for a kitchen table, hands clasped and minds in full gear. Once it came down to actually planning this, I came up blank. Our only hope was Logan, Keith and I knew this. We were his pawns now, anything that we were to do, depended on him.

"We're obviously not getting out of here as easily as bidding farewell." Logan stated, eyebrows furrowed and his gaze locked on the table before him.

Keith and I nodded.

"We can't sneak out, they have motion sensors on every goddamn inch of this place. Cameras, both security and thermal..." He added.

"Thermal?" I wondered. "Why? Zombie's don't have body heat, they wouldn't even show up..."

Logan gave me a look. "Thermal for people like us."

Keith gulped audibly. "And, uh...what exactly happens to people like us?"

Logan's eyes unfocused on the wall behind Keith. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but I knew it was about what would happen if we were caught. Keith let the question dissipate when he saw the look on Logan's face.

"So, what you're saying is...there's really no way for us to leave conventionally?" Keith mumbled unhappily.

"Yes. But..." Logan smirked. "that's why we're going to do it _un_conventionally."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Zoey...what's the extent of your knowledge of firearms?" He asked me.

My lips spread into a smile. "Without limits."

"Keith?"

"Uh..." Keith shot me a side glance. "I'm willing to learn."

"And I," Logan sat back in his chair. "am willing to teach."

Keith smiled in relief.

Logan smacked the table in enthusiasm, and I could see the plan manifesting behind the excitement in his eyes. He knew what to do. "Ok," He stood from the table, his fingertips pressed against the wood. "hit the rack. I'm going to go pull some strings."

Our eyes followed Logan as he walked towards the front door. He turned to look at us. "Get some sleep, soldiers. You may have a big day tomorrow."

Before I could object, he pulled it closed behind him.

Keith and I shared a look.

"_Soldiers_?"

* * *

**A shorter chapter. I felt unsatisfied just writing it. I've been uber busy, for that I apologize. I know things seem kind of slow right now. It's building. Have patience.**


	4. Chapter 4

**It's been 6 months, I know. I got a handful of reviews and they got me back into the spin of things. Keep in mind I just wrote this entire thing today, hence it's briefness and overall suckiness. I hope this sates you until I get back on track! **

* * *

_What was Ellis doing? His ignorance was about as thick as the smoke clouds surrounding him. When Nick's figure was out of sight, Ellis shook his head violently in an attempt to cleanse himself of his idiocy, already pushing his feet against the ground in a weak sprint._

_He could hear their 'heroes' stomping throughout the vicinity, and Ellis rushed as quickly as his body would allow. Despite his difficulty breathing and the burning in his eyes, Ellis was thankful for the cover of the smoke that contributed to his escape. _

_He rounded a corner, colliding with a figure, and instinctively leaped back, raising his weapon. Almost immediately after, he let it fall, his chest heaving with his thudding heart. "Nick, what the hell, a'thought you was running for the hills?"_

_Nick's signature smirk played on the edge of his lips. "And I thought you knew me, kid." _

_Ellis didn't have time to feel warmth at Nick's camaraderie. Despite the tiny tinge of fury he felt at Nick's willingness to leave Ellis feeling abandoned, whilst knowing Ellis would have enough enough to follow, he smiled. _

"_Now, let's get the fuck out of here." Nick said, lifting his gun from it's resting spot against the crumbled brick wall. The shouting from across the camp was growing closer. _

_Ellis turned his head in the direction of the noise, then back to Nick. He didn't know where they were supposed to go, or how they would survive, but he knew that as long as he was with one of the few people he trusted the most, his life was in good hands. _

* * *

Keith was shaking beside me, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Keith, keep it cool, alright?" I said, growing frustrated. I kept my voice low despite it being only the two of us and Logan aboard the Humvee. It bounced along the bumpy gravel roads winding towards the heavily guarded entrance, the mountains towering behind it.

"What if they know we ain't real soldiers?" He stuttered. Logan met his eyes in the rear view mirror and rolled them, making no attempts to hide his scoff.

"Are you doubting my ability to turn two under-achievers such as yourselves into believable soldiers?" He smirked and didn't wait for an answer. "Besides, who the hell is going to question anybody who looks like military personnel?"

I turned my gaze back towards Keith. "Keith, the only reason they'd have to believe we're in fact not trained soldiers making a routine medicinal delivery to a nearby refugee hold-out is the fact that you're sitting here sweating bullets over it."

I didn't admit that he wasn't the only one sweating, but that was due to the heavy apparel along with the fact that I would soon be tossed back into the world I fought so long to escape. I'd obviously never been fond of zombies, and I had no idea if I still had it in me to face them again.

He took a deep breath, his cheeks blowing up with air, and exhaled, nodding along with my words. "You're right, you're right. I don't know what's wrong with me, heh. All Logan's talk 'bout them punishin' runaways and all that good shit is just getting to me, I guess..."

"Hey, don't you blame your lack of balls on me, I swear I'll turn this Humvee around!"

"Don't give him any ideas, Logan..." I mumbled, setting back into my seat.

It was silent except for the equipment piled in the back of the Humvee sliding around with every slight turn of the wheel. Keith cleared his throat after a few thoughtful moments. "So, uh...how exactly did you pull this off?"

Logan sighed. "Every now and then shipments of the basic necessities are sent out to refugee camps and holdouts alike, usually by air. Luckily, there's been more and more of a demand, too much for the Air Force to keep up with, what with the lack of adequate oil and whatnot. So I eagerly volunteered myself and two of my comrades to take one of the few dangerous road trips out to a relatively close camp in an attempt to preserve time and gas."

"And they didn't question who these two comrades were?"

"Why would they? As long as the job is getting done."

"...It's only a matter of time before they realize Zoey and I are gone, you know that, right?"

Logan's eyes met Keith's in the rear view mirror and any trace of amusement they beheld vanished. "Yeah, well...I'm hoping we'll be long gone by then."

Keith swallowed. "I don't think distance matters much when they got all those planes and shit..."

Logan's dismissive attitude returned and he rolled his eyes. "Well, _thank you_, captain obvious. The only way we'd get away with abandoning a federal refugee camp with a truck-load of medicine and military weapons is if we're dead."

The entrance to the camp grew closer, the mountains looming ominously behind it. I turned my head in the passenger seat to look at Keith, his wide eyes met mine, and I winked.

* * *

**_(Present time)_**

_Ellis stretched his arms out above him, sighing into the darkness of his room. He peeled his eyes open, greeted by the familiar ceiling fan. It shook slightly as it stirred the air around him. _

_A warm breeze blew in from the window, rustling the floral drapery that Ellis hated, and embracing his topless figure lying on the bed. _

_The door to the bedroom creaked open, though it was too dark to see who entered, Ellis immediately knew who it was. Almost instantly, any trace of loneliness he felt dissipated, flowing out of the window along with the summer air. Any reason he had to frown, any remnant of dread, any reason to give up ceased to exist as she stepped forward, illuminated by the moonlight. _

_Her hair had grown, it was now well past her shoulders. The careless waves encircled her oval face, her eyes as brown as ever, dancing in the glow from the moon, a small smirk on her lips. Ellis pushed himself up onto his forearms, his breath catching in his throat. Her scent spread throughout the room, reaching his nostrils, clouding his thoughts. His heart was fit to burst through his chest, and he could have sworn he heard hers beating just as heavily behind her ribs. _

_Zoey stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at Ellis with a serene expression on her face, and he could have sat there and drank her in for hours. But he'd never be satisfied, he'd never be satisfied until he had every inch of her plastered against him, his nose in her hair, his arms clutching her waist, holding her as if for dear life. Holding her as if he'd never see her again. _

"_Zoey..." Ellis whispered, crawling across the bed._

"_Come touch me, Ellis." She whispered, raising a finger and beckoning him over. "Come hold me."_

_Oh, God, he couldn't think. Her voice was music, soothing and beautiful and oh, God, he wanted to hear her say his name again. _

"_Ellis..." She sang as if reading his thoughts. _

_Why was he moving so slow? Why was he still crawling towards her? Why was she not in his arms, why were his hands not twined in her hair, why were her lips not against his?_

"_Ellis, please..." She cooed, with an edge of desperation, her arm slightly outstretched, reaching for Ellis. "Please, before I go!"_

_Go? Go where? No, she could never leave him again, he wouldn't allow it. He'd break. He wouldn't make it this time. He lurched forward, his hands inches from her waist, ready to grab her and hold her as if she were his lifeline. He shook with anticipation,waiting for this moment, dreaming of this moment. _

_He knelt at the edge of the bed, pulling her towards him, basking in her warmth, indulging in her scent. His arms edge around her waist, squeezing her against him, squeezing her with the intent to become one. He shook against her, burying his face in her air. _

_Ellis didn't know how long they stood there like that, and he'd never been more at peace, and he couldn't imagine ever feeling more at peace. At least until he kissed her, at least until he tasted her and made her his. _

_After what felt like an eternity that Ellis wouldn't mind spending, Zoey spoke."Ellis, I have to go..." She whispered softly into his ear. _

"_Don't be ridiculous, you ain't leavin' me again." He muttered back, hardly able to conceal how much her words terrified him. _

_She pulled away, and despite how hard he tried to pull her back into him, it seemed to have no affect on her. "I have to go, Ellis. I have to go."_

_No, no, no. She couldn't go. He couldn't let her go. He wouldn't! _

"_I have to go, Ellis. You have to wake up."_

_Those were words that Ellis' brain wasn't willing to register. He lurched forward, his lips aching for hers. _

_When the explosive nerves of his lips finally came into contact with hers, Ellis could feel his entire being coming into himself, as if a piece of himself had been missing, and was only to be found within his counterpart. He crushed his mouth against hers, unable to control his hunger for her and all of the emotions raging through him. He'd never be satisfied, he could never have enough of her._

_Zoey pulled away too soon, and put her hand against Ellis' mouth. "You have to wake up, Ellis. You have to wake up." _

_He shook his head against her palm, pulling it from his mouth and holding it against his cheek. "I don't want to wake up to a life you ain't a part of, Zo..."_

"_Soon, Ellis. But for now, you have to wake up." _

_Ellis shook his head stubbornly, and went in for another kiss. Only his mouth never came into contact with hers, only now he suddenly felt cold, only now he felt more alone than ever. _

_He opened his eyes to an empty room, Zoey's words echoing throughout, bouncing off of the walls. He collapsed to his knees, his arms gripping himself, trying to retain some of the warmth she left behind. He had to wake up._

* * *

_Ellis' eyes snapped open, his head filled with her. He felt as if he just had her in his arms. It ended too soon, he couldn't even remember what it was like to kiss her anymore. His eyes took in the sky leaking through the cracked roof, the moon illuminating the dilapidated attic Ellis lay in. _

_Nick was snoring in the corner, cradling his weapon. Despite his presence, Ellis felt more alone than ever. He pushed himself up against the wall, let his head fall into his hands, and wept._


	5. Chapter 5

"Hurry it up, Keith, we're burning daylight." Logan said monotonously as he pulled the Humvee over.

"A mans gotta piss!" He exclaimed in his defense upon opening the door.

"You could piss your pants for all I care, but we're rather pressed for time."

"Two minutes ain't gonna kill ya." He mumbled under his breath, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Eh, in this day and age, I'm not so sure about that..." Logan sighed, massaging his temples.

"I didn't want to ask in front of Keith," I began. "but how far away is this refugee camp we're supposedly going to?"

"It's about a three day trip by vehicle. So I'm trying to get as far away as fast as possible before they take notice." He said, staring ahead.

"And what are we going to do once our three days are up?"

He shot me a side glance. "Die."

I stared at him.

"As far as they're concerned!" He quickly added after seeing the look on my face.

"You could have just said that, no need to be all dramatic and mysterious..."

"We're faking our deaths, what's not dramatic about that?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes and he added, "Well, hopefully all goes well or else we won't have to fake our deaths..."

I sighed. "You know, I'm surprised you even came with..."

Keith reappeared in the backseat before I could finish my statement, noticably relieved. "Man, I've been holdin' that shit for hours!"

Logan met my gaze. "Later." He said quietly.

"So what happens when we run outta gas?" Keith wondered after a few moments of silence.

Logan glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "I think gas is the least of our worries."

Keith bit his lip.

* * *

The sun was setting, the elongated shadows of the trees leaning across the road, intertwining, small pockets of sunshine gleaming through the leaves. They were changing colors, falling from the branches, cascading down with every gust of wind in a spectrum of red, orange, and yellow. Autumn was always my favorite season, the warm colors and cooling air always gave a feeling of nostalgia, no matter where I was or what I was doing. Whether it was procrastinating my life away in a college dorm or fighting FOR my life in the zombie apocalypse, one glance at the trees, one breath of the autumn breeze, and I felt home.

Logan slowed down, interrupting my quiet meditation. He yawned, his eyelids growing heavy. "Okay, I'm gonna have to turn the wheel over. I was up all night putting this shit together, I need a break."

"I'll drive." I immediately offered. I could use the distraction.

He stopped the Humvee, ignoring the equipment sliding around in the back. "Alright, just a heads up, there's a small town just down the road. I'm not sure of its status, it was abandoned some time ago. So if you wanna go around, there's a fork up ahead that will take you, but that also takes twice as long..."

"It's fine, I'm sure we can handle it." I assured him. I swore I heard Keith gulp in the backseat.

"Fine by me. Wake my ass up if there's trouble." He added when we switched seats, reclining the chair all the way back and pulling his hat over his eyes. He began snoring almost instantly.

"Zoey, you sure you don't wanna go around?" Keith whispered, his brow furrowed.

"Keith, we barely made it past the Rocky's yet. If it was that bad, our camp would have warned us."

He scoffed. "You sure about that? They sure did love keepin' shit from us all the damn time."

"Well, I'd like to be." I muttered.

Keith shook his head, falling back against his seat. A few moments of silence ensued before he broke it with another whisper. "So, why you wanna find Ellis so bad?"

I was slightly taken aback at the abrupt subject change, to a topic I was almost never prepared to discuss. I stuttered a couple times, "I owe it to him." I finally spat out. I didn't think Keith had to know the true depth of my motives quite yet.

"...D'you really think he's alive?" He wondered.

"You know him just as well if not better than I do. I know - I know he's alive." I said quietly, contemplatng my own words. Did I really believe that, or was I merely trying to convince myself? Did I leave the camp to look for him, or because I was beginning to lose myself? Did I have a plausible, tangible reason for anything, or was I just fucking batshit insane?

It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. I didn't even know where to begin looking for him. The entire fucking continent was a possibility. How would I narrow it down? How could I reach him, before I actually reach him?

If he was alive, had he been looking for me all this time I spent being cradled by the government? Where would that journey have taken him? Did he have any inkling as to where I was?

As I drove down the dark, empty road, it began to set in: I had no idea what I was doing.

* * *

_Ellis dragged his gun along the dirt behind him, eyes cast down at his feet, pushing the damp leaves forward with his boots. They were red, yellow, and orange. Ellis bit the inside of his cheek, remembering Zoey's fondness for autumn and its warm tones. _

_Lost in his thoughts, Ellis didn't notice when Nick was no longer trailing beside him. "Nick? Aye, Nick!" He shouted, doing a 360. _

_A hand grabbed the back of his shirt collar and jerked him backwards into the trees. "God dammit, Ellis, quit daydreaming for once, I said get over here!" _

"_Why, what's goin' on?" Ellis inquired when Nick pulled him into squatting position behind a tree. _

"_I saw military personnel coming over the hill down the road." Nick grew as still as stone, listening. "Can you hear them? They're not driving very fast, so we got a few minutes." _

"_Good call, man, I don't wanna deal with those assholes…" _

_Nick shot him a glance. "Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we're gonna have to."_

"_Why, ain't we just gonna hide til they go past?" _

"_We're not gonna get anywhere walking down this road for three weeks." Nick said pessimistically, eyeing the road._

"_Awh, man, I don't wanna hurt nobody!" Ellis complained, falling onto his backside. _

"_Quit bein' a little pansy, Ellis. You do wanna find out where Zoey went, right?" _

_Ellis balled his hands into fists. Nick knew what to say to get him worked up. _

"_You know I do, Nick. You don't even gotta ask." Ellis said through clenched teeth, hauling himself to his feet. Nick immediately pulled him back down behind the underbrush. _

"_Well, this is how we're gonna do that…just a matter of figuring out how to stop them without damaging the ride too bad." Nick muttered, almost to himself. _

"_Shootin' the tires is outta the question," Ellis stated._

"_No shit!" Nick scoffed. "How about explosives?"_

"_I thought you said you didn't wanna damage the car!" Ellis objected._

"_Did I say ON the car, dipshit? No, maybe slightly ahead of them, or on the side of the road. Enough to cause them to stop, maybe even investigate." _

"_Well, whatchu got? I got a Molotov but that won't end nicely…" _

"_I got it." Nick said, rising into a crouching position. "Stay behind this tree, but stay ready. That means aim your fucking gun, asshole!" Nick commanded when Ellis didn't move. Ellis obliged. _

"_Awright, I can see their headlights. They're pickin' up speed, so do what you gotta do, man!" Ellis shouted in a slightly panicked tone. _

"_I gotta time this perfectly. It's a pipe bomb." Nick said, pulling it from his belt, slinging his gun over his back. "It's getting dark, they won't notice me right away." _

_Ellis could feel his heart pounding. He never felt this rush when dealing with zombies anymore. It held little of the excitement that it had before. His adrenaline used to pump vigorously due to his natural instinct to stay alive. Every day he was losing more and more of that will. But these were people. A type of confrontation he had grown unfamiliar with, and it had his blood pumping. It was invigorating, and Ellis welcomed it. It made him feel alive._

_The Humvee was coming over a sequence of small hills about a mile or so down the road. Ellis kept his sights on it, his pose suddenly rigid, prepared. Nick was crouched on the side of the road, pipe bomb clutched in his sweaty palm. _

_A few very tense moments passed. The world seemed to grow still, the trees seemed to stop rustling in the breeze, the leaves seemed to cease crunching beneath their boots. The headlights illuminated the road before them, highlighting Nicks figure in the underbrush. _

"_Shit, shit, shit!" Nick suddenly hollered, scrambling from his position, throwing the pipe bomb blindly. _

_A barrage of artillery suddenly rained down on them. Nick fell heavily to the ground, attempting to conceal himself as he crawled towards Ellis. _

_Ellis swiveled around the tree. He saw the blinking red light of the pipe bomb, off to the side of the road, not too far ahead of the rapidly approaching Humvee. He sent two expertly aimed bullets at it, igniting it immediately. _

_The sloppy fire of the turret ceased as the tires screeched to a stop, turning rapidly to the side to avoid the explosion. _

_Ellis crept down, signaling to Nick. Nick Army-crawled towards Ellis, waiting before he was behind the fat tree trunk to rise. Blood was spreading along his shirt at his shoulder._

"_Damn, Nick, they getcha?" Ellis asked, worriedly eyeing the wound._

"_Barely nicked me, kid." He assured him, grabbing hold of his weapon. "Now be quiet, they're getting out." _

_They both listened to the slamming of doors, and muffled shouting. _

"_The fuck, how does a zombie throw a pipe bomb?" A hoarse voice shouted to a second party. _

"_Either that was an IED or not a zombie…" His partner suggested, in a much calmer tone. _

_They could hear the men's weapons being raised, slowly approaching the side of the road. _

"_The fuck we gonna do, Nick?" Ellis whispered heatedly._

"_There's only two of them. We can handle this." Nick said. "On the count of three. One…two…"_

_They both leapt from behind the tree, weapons raised, face to face, barrel to barrel with two young civilians who looked more scared than them._

"_The fuck?" Ellis said what they were all thinking. "Ain't you guys in the army?" _

"_What in the hell gave you that idea?" The hoarse-voiced one said._

"_Uh, I don't know, genius, maybe the Humvee you were driving like a complete fucktard two minutes ago?" Nick said sourly. _

_He took a step towards Nick, but his friend raised a hand to his chest, whispering something between a tight jaw. Nick only caught "innocent" and "firepower". _

_The angry one shook his head, stepping back. "I 'spose you're right." He slowly lowered his weapon, Ellis and Nick following suit. "Although you assholes tried to blow us up!" _

"_Thought you were soldiers, and we was only tryin' to distract you til you started firin' on us!" Ellis objected. "You even hit 'em!" He added, gesturing to Nicks bleeding shoulder. _

_The other two just shrugged. "Thought you were a couple'a ghouls. Shit happens. We'll get you patched up, my apologies."_

_Nick rolled his eyes, waving it off._

"_We cool?" The man added, extending a hand towards Nick, who shot Ellis a side glance before taking it apprehensively. "I'm Marcus. This is my buddy Adam." He gestured to the collected, dark haired man beside him._

"_Nick." Nick said. "That's Ellis." _

_Ellis nodded his head, smiling. His southern hospitality would die only when he did. _

_The two turned and headed back to the Humvee. Ellis began to follow but Nick pulled him back for a moment. "Listen, these guys are fucking idiots. First chance we get, we jack the Humvee and dump them." _

_Ellis shrugged indifferently. "Fine by me. They're bound to get on my damn nerves sooner or later. Not so good with people anymore." _

_They approached the Humvee, opening the doors to the back. There was a red sweater on the seat, and Ellis reckoned he'd use it to wipe some of the grime and dirt off of him. _

_He pulled it to him and the scent invaded his nostrils, washing over him, threatening to knock him down. His heart began to race. He knew that smell. He'd recognize it anywhere. He dreamt of it every night. He pressed the sweater to his nose, inhaling deeply, ignoring the questioning stares of other three. _

_Ellis checked the tag, knowing that if it was who he thought it was, this would verify it. When those four letters registered in his brain, his heart sank, and he didn't climb in the car although he felt as if his legs were going to give out. Every part of him was shaking, and he dare not say a word yet for he knew his voice would break. He looked down at the tag again. It was even in her chicken scratch writing. He read it over and over, the familiar smell clouding his thoughts, bringing an aching in his gut._

"_**Zoey."**_

* * *

Logan was still snoring away in the passenger seat, and Keith was eyeing the small town they barreled through wearily. It was a ghost town.

"It's completely deserted, Keith, calm down." I said. It eased his nerves only slightly.

"How do you stay so calm?" He asked earnestly.

"Been there, done that." I waved him off in mock confidence. I've just stopped caring about what happened to me. I found little motive to fight for my life other than the shred of hope I had pertaining to Ellis.

I was starting to sweat under all the clothes, and my bladder was dangerously closed to bursting. I informed Keith I was pulling over in a vacant parking lot for a quick squat. When I got out of the car, I stripped of the uniform jacket and my sweater, tossing them in the backseat. I kept my handgun in my holster as a comfort, knowing I wouldn't need it in the few moments I spent out of the car. I squatted behind an overturned pickup truck, sighing in relief.

I heard the Humvee door slam, and a few shouts from the other side of the truck. I hurried to pull my pants up, tearing my handgun from the holster and rushing to investigate.

Logan was laying face down on the pavement, groggy from being violently awakened. A young man with dark hair and equally dark eyes held him down beneath his boot. Keith was pushed against the hood, a man with disheveled, dish-water hair and a dirty face holding him down by his face.

I aimed my handgun steadily, shifting targets between the two. They raised theirs defensively upon my arrival.

"Look what we got here," the dirty faced man said in a hoarse voice that suited his appearance, eyeing me up and down, a sick glimmer in his eyes. He shoved Keith to the ground and kicked him in the face for good measure.

The dark haired man seemed a little more apprehensive about the situation. "You said we weren't gonna hurt anybody." He stated calmly. "Remember what you said. We got a long ways to go. We can't waste time."

His partner rolled his eyes. "Get over here, sweet thing, or I put a bullet between your boyfriends eyes."

I scowled and shuffled closer, never taking my eyes, or my aim, off of them.

"Drop the gun."

I obliged, placing it at my feet.

"Kick it over here."

The look of blind hatred never left my face.

"Aye, aye, aye, you ain't gotta do this, there's power in numbers!" Keith shouted from the ground, breathless from the boot on his chest. It shifted for a quick kick in his face, and blood immediately painted the pavement.

"Dirty military scum." He spat on Keith.

Logan began to struggle beneath the other mans boot at this. That's when the calmer of the two pleaded, "Let's fucking go!" He knew if Logan put up a fight, he would lose. He didn't seem like a fighter. He left that up to his buddy.

With a solid kick to Keith's gut to make sure he wouldn't get up, he ran to the drivers side, and his friend didn't hesitate to jump in the back, his eyes never leaving me. He almost seemed apologetic as they sped off through the parking lot. I saw Keith's gun where the Humvee was previously parked. I picked it up and fired blindly in the direction they were going, a wave of anger washed over me, so powerful I thought it would knock me on my ass.

I screamed through me teeth, stomping me feet and thrashing around like a child. What the fuck was I going to do now? How the fuck was I going to find Ellis now?

Logan crawled over to Keith, assessing his face. I paid no mind. I was blinded by rage, seeing white.

I fell to my knees and pounded the pavement with my fists. There's no way I could do anything now. If I felt hopeless before, it was intensified immeasurably in this moment.

I stopped hitting the ground when my hands throbbed, blood caking my knuckles once more. I fell to my side, my shouts forming into choking, helpless sobs.


	6. Chapter 6

**So, I'm off work the next few days. All geeked out with The Walking Dead and fuming over the World War Z disastrous movie trailer, I've decided to devote a good chunk of the next few days to writing. I wrote this very quickly, I will either extend this chapter or post a new chapter tonight/tomorrow. Just tryin' to sate yah faithful readers...thanks for sticking with me.**_  
_

* * *

_Ellis' feet were shackled to the ground. He stared at the sweater in his hands, a range of emotions so erratic coursed through him. He didn't know which one to act on. Fear, anger, hope...He didn't know these men, but these men gave him the first connection to Zoey he had other than his fading dreams._

_He snapped back to reality with three heads turned towards him, impatience etched in their faces. He tucked the sweater into his belt, slamming the back door of the Humvee shut. Nick didn't know what Ellis was about to do, but he jumped from the vehicle just as quick. _

_Ellis tore open the drivers door, gripping the collar of the man called Marcus and yanking him out with strength he forgot he had. He had the man pinned on the floor in a matter of seconds, stealing the pistol from his belt and digging it into the mans forehead. _

_Nick didn't bother to assess the situation, he already had a chokehold on Adam, subduing him from assissting his friend. He couldn't manage to spit out an objection, Nicks arm was wrapped around his neck too tightly._

_"Where did you get this vehicle?" Ellis spat between his teeth, saliva spewing onto the mans face. When he didn't answer immediately, Ellis pulled back and knocked the mans head to the side with his pistol. "WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THIS?" _

_"We jacked it from a few soldiers in Colorado!" He shouted. "Only a few miles west of the Kansas border, alright? Fuck, what's your problem!"_

_"Shut yer fuckin' trap, was there a woman? WAS THERE A WOMAN?" _

_"Y-yeah!" He struggled beneath Ellis, and he pushed the barrel harder against his forehead. "Real cute brunette, alright? That's her pistol, too, in your hand. Is that what you wanna fuckin' hear?" _

_Ellis inploded with rage, using his left fist to knock Marcus' head left and right. "When?"_

_"A few, I don't know, maybe four days ago?" _

_Ellis breathed heavily, registering his words. _

_"Are you gonna fuckin' kill me? Cause if you are, quit putting it off like a pussy and do it!" He shouted, shooting a wad of spit onto Ellis' filthy shirt. _

_"I ain't gonna take that pleasure, just yet." Ellis sneered. "You're riding with __**us **__now. You're taking us to the exact spot you stole this here vehicle, comprende, muchacher? _

_"Ellis," Nick half-shouted from the passenger side. "whenever you're finished blowin' each other over there, why don't we get the fuck out of here? Your shouts are attracting geeks." _

_Ellis gripped his collar and pulled him to his feet, shoving him into the back seat. "Get the other one in here, take his weapon and keep yours on them. I'll take care of the biters." _

_Nick happily obliged, and Ellis pulled his machete from his belt. A few geeks stumbled from the trees, locking their sights on Ellis and shuffling forward. Slower than usual. "You must be some hungry mother fuckers, aye?" Ellis asked rhetorically, approaching the closest one. A nude walker, whatever skin was left was a cold, dark grey. Black goo oozed from its mouth, its wounds, its belly. Ellis grabbed hold of its shoulder and buried the blade into its skull, ripping it out and kicking its gut, knocking it into the Z behind it. He repeated this process at least five more times, taking out every zombie he saw. There weren't many, and Ellis walked breathlessly back to the car, adrenaline pumping. He had such energy coursing through him as he slid into the drivers seat, Nick sitting beside him, half turned towards the men in the backseat, his barrel locked on them. _

_Ellis did a three point turn around and barreled west, in the direction the men came from. He had always wanted to see Colorado._

* * *

"On the plus side, we have acquired a legitimate reason not to carry out our 'mission'," Logan said cheerfully. "fuck yeah, right gang?"

Keith kicked the pebbles around his feet, holding a piece of cloth to his bleeding nose. "Yeah, well, what the fuck we gonna do now?"

"We keep going." I said from my seated position on the gravel, still fuming over being carjacked by a couple pieces of shit. "What other option do we have?"

"On foot?" Keith inquired nervously.

I stood and smacked his shoulder. "Combat practice."

"Yeah...combat practice..."

"We're gonna keep heading east, like planned. Add a few days to our trip sans a vehicle. We only have a few more hours of daylight. Let's move and find somewhere to hole ourselves up for the night." Logan instructed.

We walked towards the main road from the parking lot. Logan reclaimed his gun and Keith still had his, which he tried handing over to me. "No," I refused. "you need as much practice as you can get. That thing is going to be your new best friend."

Keith stared down at the pistol in his hands before tucking it back into its holster. He muttered beneath his breath, "I don't want a new best friend."


End file.
